


stomping through snow

by andrewwtca



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, M/M, Museums, No Angst, No Smut, Oneshot, Romance, Snowball Fight, Tsukishima Mains Yoshi In Smash, Yamaguchi Listens To Nicki Minaj, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima Are Idiots, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewwtca/pseuds/andrewwtca
Summary: Yamaguchi and Tsukishima go on a date to the Iwate Prefectural Museum but being the idiots they are, it isn't anything like the movies say it should be.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	stomping through snow

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing this since August of 2020 but I kept procrastinating... 'This December' by Ricky Montgomery was the only thing that kept me going. This was rush edited as I lost all my patience once I finished. I have also learned that HTML editing is harder than it looks so this took me an hour to import. I hope you enjoy reading my blood, sweat and tears!

“My hands are cold,” Yamaguchi complains, pushing down on his hair. The cold air is triggering his piloerection, attacking the hair slipping out of his red knit hat. His flipped hairstyle refuses to return and he sighs. “You said it was going to be warm today, Tsukki!” Redirecting his attention from his hair to his nose a moment, he rubs the redness until a sneeze slips out. 

The brick pavement allows way for stacked snow, partially blocking the path for patrons. The railings are below zero to the touch, icicles dripping beneath the metal. The sky’s a blank sheet, waiting for dark clouds to paint all over it. Until that day comes, white eraser shavings continue to litter the Earth. Soft crunches follow each footstep, white wrapping around the owner’s footwear.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, offering a quick ‘you okay?’ Yamaguchi replies by continuing to mess with his hair. “I never said it was going to be warm,” he reminds him, swatting away Yamaguchi’s arms that went astray trying to tame his hair. “I said it was going to be warmer, dumbass. I told you it was going to be positive today.”

“I thought you meant _you_ were going to be positive!”

The blond let’s out a mix of something between a scoff and a laugh, glancing towards the shorter male. “Oi, stop messing with your hair,” he scolds. “You look like an idiot. Just put your hands in your pocket if you’re so cold.”

“But my pocket’s cold too!” A coup d'oeil of his taller friend’s hand reveals they are covered in a pair of white liner gloves, thin enough to grab snow and thick enough to keep them out. Flurries of the frozen water surround them, creating a thin veil obstructing their view. They occasionally grace the boy dressed in a green coat, sending shivers up his veins. He shoves his right hand into the cold pocket and promptly, his left hand reaches for the blond’s right and without his consent, interlocks them. 

Tsukishima almost instantaneously pulls away, fret crossing his face, quickly dispersing. “You idiot,” he hisses, shoving his hand into his coat. “We’re in public. What if someone sees us?” Yamaguchi’s face falls, his right hand following the other’s lead and slipping into his pocket. “You can’t do stuff like that here.”

“Oh come on, who from Miyagi comes to Iwate to go to this museum?” Yamaguchi argues. “I mean people who live here don’t even come here and it’s snowing. Look around, everyone’s just focused on not slipping!”

“Shut up, Tadashi.”

“...Sorry, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima hears his voice desolate and tries to keep his gaze forward. He hates to admit it but he can’t stand seeing Yamaguchi down, even over the little things. Maybe it’s because he’s grown so used to seeing the freckled boy with a grin. Maybe it’s because Yamaguchi always is the one doing cheering up—regardless of whether it’s to himself or others. 

It’s not that Japan is particularly homophobic. Couples like the two are littered all over the country even if it isn’t legalized. The only way to legally certify that you love each other is to adopt a child. And even if the eye’s of the public are slowly opening, allies peeling back eyelids of contempt with the hate being put against those who have done nothing, tradition still chokes many. The need to uphold the honor of families. For seeking love is dishonorable. Tsukishima hates that reality being pushed on the two of them.

His hands fumble in his pocket, personifying his inner struggle before he mumbles, “We can when we get inside.”

Face re-animated, a grin breaks out, Yamaguchi’s freckles contorting with one another. “Thank you, Tsukki!” Satisfied with the compromise, the cold of his pockets doesn’t bother him any further. The snowfall doesn’t seem to let up though and if anything, gets stronger. Gusts of winds push falling flakes aside, attacking anything frail it passes. Yamaguchi’s hair isn’t protected from that condition either, his already messy hair tangling with white and each other. 

"It's so pretty," he says nonetheless, his reawakened happiness taking the reins. "I wish it would snow in the summer."

"You wish it would snow in the heat?" Tsukishima lets his eyes amble, scanning the colorless sky behind his frosted lenses. “If the snow is hot, how would that be comfortable? You’re just asking for rain, idiot.”

“No, I want cold snow in the summer. So like it’s super hot and then suddenly a cold breeze hits you and it starts snowing,” the green-head blethers. “It’s like having ice cream in the summer; just a break from all the heat!” 

Tsukishima snickers, side-eyeing his idiot. “Stop supporting global-warming. What’s left of your brain will melt.”

══════════════════

“I haven’t been here in forever!” Yamaguchi’s fingers slide down his coat, freeing each side and allowing air to come in. Unwrapping the checkered scarf from his neck, he lets it hang on either side above his white t-shirt. Pushing down the white from his hair, untangling strands as he watches the snow dissolve as it hits the ground.

Exhibits attack him everywhere he looks—there’s a few about Japan’s history as any all-around museum in the country have, there’s a few with models of animals and fossils. Then there’s assortments of clothing, complemented by the black marble clothing and traditional bamboo walls.

“You said you’ve _never_ been here,” Tsukishima corrects, mirroring his actions and unbuttoning his red coat. Slipping off the cold gloves and shoving them in his pocket, he tugs on his scarf and lets it become undone. 

Taking off his knit hat and shoving it into his pocket, he grabs a hold of the blond’s hand as part of their bargain. Yamaguchi’s cold fingers wrap around Tsukishima’s, stealing his warmth. This sends a shiver up the latter’s arm but he doesn’t show anything. “Yeah, what else do you think I meant by forever? Anyway, let’s go to the dinosaur exhibit.” Taking the lead, his hand behind him as he drags Tsukishima, he looks over his shoulder to speak before being interrupted.

“It’s not only your comprehension skills I’m worried about but your reading skills, because you’re going the wrong way,” Tsukishima teases, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. “How are you in the same class as me?” 

Yamaguchi scans the room for signs, his cheeks tinting in embarrassment realizing this. “I didn’t even go that far,” he complains. “I was just trying to see everything in this room before moving on.”

“So you wanted to see…” The blond looks ahead, suppressing his smile. “Traditional women’s clothing? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Into that?... _Oh._ You pervert! I don’t know how you even manage volleyball practice with all your perverted-”

“Hey, keep your voice down,” Tsukishima laughs, looking to see a few stray eyes of patrons directed towards them. “You idiot, you shouldn’t say that while holding on to me.”

“Then I won’t hold on to you anymore,” Yamaguchi resolves, pulling his hand away. The other’s grip doesn’t falter though. “Let go. Don’t touch me with your perverted hands.”

“Oh, I didn’t even say anything,” he laughs once again, a rare and sweet song. “I simply stated that I didn’t know you were into women’s clothing. You’re the one who went and put the wrong pieces together, Tadashi.”

“That’s not what you meant and you know it, Tsukki.”

“If you wanna wear a women’s kimono that badly-”

“No! Just…” Cheeks burning red, Yamaguchi turns his head over his other shoulder, trying to feel for a breeze to cool him down. To his avail, none comes and nothing there’s nothing and no one to stop Tsukishima from continuing to tease him. “...just sto-op, Tsukki!”

_‘He’s adorable,’_ the sadistic blond thinks, tugging on their entwined hands. “Okay, okay, let’s go see the fossils. I’ll help you accomplish your dream, though, if you really want to wear-”

Yamaguchi wacks his side before sneezing once more.

══════════════════

“These don’t look real,” Yamaguchi crosses his arms, huffing. “If I touched one, they would probably just tip over. They’re probably plastic.”

The fossils standing in front of him are in fact not plastic, and are in fact taken from the Earth and put together to form a magnificent display. He could read the nameplate to learn what creature he was blessed to stand before but would rather play stupid with his boyfriend—no he’s not dumb. It’s just fun to watch Tsukishima lose his mind before eventually shutting the greenhead up. 

But he’s not lying when he says they look like plastic. Whoever polishes them needs a promotion.

“Touch it,” the other dares. “Let’s see how long before someone thinks you’re trying to steal the ‘plastic’.”

Yamaguchi bites back his smile before going forth and idiotically asking, “How do we know dinosaurs are even real?”

Tsukishima gestures to the model before him. “Duh, fossils.”

“Yeah, but how do we know these aren’t fakes? I don’t mean these ones in particular but all fossils—how do we know it isn’t just like birds? All sent out by our respective governments to spy on us?”

“Give me your phone,” Tsukishima chuckles, holding out his hand, “let’s see how much time you’ve spent on Reddit today.” 

Yamaguchi’s hand snakes into his pocket, clutching his device. “No, I’m not going to let you try to kink shame me again.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he quickly retorts, “It’s not shaming, I’m just asking if you wish to apply it to real life. Anyways, there are photographs of them being discovered.”

“My kinks?”

“What? No, the fossils. In their archaeological sites.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi nods, letting his hand fall out of his pocket. “Well, just because I have a skeleton doesn’t mean I’m a dinosaur. These could just be people put together in different ways.”

“...What?” Side-eyeing the male, he squints. “But you’re so small… Your bones wouldn’t be able to become _that_. Look at their density.”

Standing up straighter, Yamaguchi continues as if he’s making a great point. “Besides, how do we know what dinosaurs even look like? They say they’re big and scary, predators and stuff, but like they could just be like the plushies you get, Tsukki. Just soft. These don’t tell us anything. For all we know, they could have really long nails. It’s inaccurate to put them in museums along these ‘real’ fossils.”

“Those are just artistic representations,” he states, pushing up his glasses. He was losing brain cells every second he spoke to Yamaguchi but he didn’t seem to mind any of his idiotic antics. “Claws and nails are the same thing. They are both made of the same substance but nails are softer and duller while claws can dig for stuff. It just makes sense that they would have claws because they had to dig around and such.”

“Okay but they could have nails. What you’re saying is assuming that they had claws and like not Nicki Minaj nails. Claws are good for digging but I’m pretty sure she could like be a miner with hers.”

Tsukishima finally turns to look, his face twisting in disgust. “Is that actually the English music you listen to?”

Swatting away at his expression, Yamaguchi shakes his head. “Pay attention to the point I’m trying to make and that is, why can’t I give a t-rex long nails? Because they’re fake.” A proud smile takes his lips, his conclusion strong with almost nothing being able to take it down. He’s not a sea captain on unsteady seas but rather navigating calm waters, the world taking pity on him.

“No, because a nail isn’t a bone so we wouldn’t know if they had one or not. They’re not the same substance as calcium,” Tsukishima explains.

Yamaguchi is taken aback, mock surprise wiping his righteousness away. “Nails… aren’t bones?” _Almost_ nothing. The waters suddenly summons the Kraken and his shipmates of brain cells are dragged away to the bottom of the ocean, bubbles following their screams. Poseidon calls Zeus up, and a heated storm approaches—they must be talking about Zeus’ recent hookup.

Tsukishima is also taken aback by how stupid one could be. “...Do you think you would become a fossil with nails?”

Holding his hand between the two, Yamaguchi shows the taller male his hand. “Yeah, painted and sharpened. I think they’d look nice.”

“You’d look nice with better grades but you don’t hear me saying anything.”

“That’s mean, Tsukki! I wish you were shorter so I could whack your head.”

“You’d also look nice if you were taller.”

“I’m average height!”

“Average to what, girls?”

“Average male height!”

“Fine, fine… Above-average female height.”

“You know what, let’s go find something for me to stand on so you’ll know how it feels to be bullied for height—normal height. God, I feel bad for Hinata…”

══════════════════

“This isn’t… Isn’t what I meant,” Yamaguchi mumbles, his arms going against his words and wrapping around the blond’s neck. His hands tightly grip his elbows, forcing the other closer to him, bending him down so their lips can touch. His backs pushing back against the door, heat building up from the space between the metal and him covered with fabrics.

Tsukishima ignores him briefly, his hands sliding down the boy’s side, settling somewhere on his waist. His fingers curl around where his torso ends and entryway to his legs begin, massaging it softly. The palms of his hand softly caress Yamaguchi, sliding up and falling back down in the slowest most sensual pace he could go without going insane. “You want to sit on the toilet and kiss instead?”

Their lips interlock in a vibrant dance, going from slow song to a tango in mere seconds. They pull away only to restock on air before crashing back together like water, always merging once a droplet finds another. Their tongues are too shy to touch for now, knowing that other men could enter the public area. But their lips are the most daring part of them, the padded muscles ignoring the hushed stares of confused patrons that they must’ve attracted and simply loving one another.

“Don’t,” Yamaguchi says, a laugh brushing against the taller male’s lips, “tempt me.” This coaxes the both of them to deepen their kiss, their tongues still unsure of not whether they want each other but whether they would be able to stop if they collide. Tsukishima’s hands pack their things and begin to wander father into land only he has chartered before. They slide under the soft sands of the greenhead’s jacket, travel the milky ways of his pale skin and hook around his jeans, tugging them down ever so slowly. 

Yamaguchi pulls away, though there isn’t much space to do so. His head softly hits the stall’s door and he shakes his head, lips parted and breathing with little coming in. “Wait, I don’t want to, Tsukki.”

“You don’t?” Tsukishima’s hands don’t move but take a break, drinking water as they admire how far they’ve come from home. They don’t know how much farther they’ll be able to make it but they enjoyed their journey and are ready to call it a day.

“I just want to kiss. Sorry, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi’s grip on his lover’s neck softens, his hands sliding away from one another, sending goosebumps down Tsukishima’s already stimulated body. 

A rare smile graces Tsukishima’s lips as his hands pack their things and decide the path they’ve taken is more worth it than the destination. Sliding away from his jeans and slipping out from underneath his shirt, he pecks Yamaguchi’s lips as his hands settle on his waist once more. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Just because someone’s kissing you, doesn’t mean they gave you consent to go further. Tsukishima’s learned that respecting the smaller being rather than forcing himself onto him is the most pleasant feeling—mutual understanding. It’s much more magical than the feeling of embracing your bare lover, your sweat entwining.

Yamaguchi’s breathless intoxicated state returns as he mirrors his boyfriend, his arms tightening once more. Instead of wrapping around though, they travel forward and each hand interlocks with the other. His forearms snake around the blonde’s neck and pulls Tsukishima back to him, their lips connecting once more, two mated seahorses unable to shake off their biological connection of lifetime love and returning into one another. Their tongues join the battle this time and reach out for one another in a final cry.

There’s no battle for dominance. There’s no one dominating the battle field, holding the other prisoner to their darkest desires and making them captive to their secret pleasures. There’s no dictator forcing one beneath his feet, holding them up by their chin and breaking their spirits. No, it’s just love trying to push aside lust. It’s a feeble battle.

They duo travel across both battlegrounds, admiring the caverns belonging to each of them. A string of saliva, proof of their connection regardless of them belonging to different worlds, holds them together whenever they try to leave and help them find one another. Soft moans guide them through the dark, letting them know where it feels good. Lips close off the cavern to any strangers, leaving the two to enjoy one another’s presence. For what more are lips but to kiss and protect?

“You’ve gotten better at kissing, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi remarks, pulling away and cutting their connection. The soldiers try to come back to each other but their battle is over. It’s time to come home but it isn’t goodbye. They’ve faced off many times and clashed together, joining forces instead of fighting and they always come back. Even if the soldiers end up harming one another, saying hurtful things, they always end up entangled in the end, holding one another. “Have you been trying it with other girls?”

Tsukishima’s hands push against the wall, helping him keep his weight off his best friend. “Yeah, of course,” he sarcastically replies. “They’re way better than you, by the way.”

“Then why’d you drag me all the way to a different prefecture just to make out with me?” Yamaguchi’s hand slid away from the blond’s neck, dropping down to settle into his pocket. The two of them look like they’re in one of those ‘bullies-intimidating-crush’ scenes, Tsukishima trying to get the attention of his poor victim, trapping him in the middle.

Tsukishma’s eyebrows shoot up like it’s New Years which isn’t too far. “First off, you dragged me into the bathroom. Second off, I came here for the dinosaurs, not you.”

“Fine then, you can have them. I’m breaking up with you.” He throws his head over his shoulder, looking away with mock anger washing over him. His hands don’t find comfort in his formerly cold pockets and search for the lock, yearning to escape to continue his faux envy.

“You’re getting jealous over dinosaurs? God, you’re so immature.”

A smile tugs at Yamaguchi’s lips, little fairies convincing him to show off his teeth before he could even tell his joke. It’s contagious and without even speaking, it spreads to Tsukishima. “Yep. You better get used to it, Saltyshima.”

“No, you did not just call me that,” the salty one groans, his smile not faltering, a hand going up to cover his grin.

“See, I’m not bad at English just because I listen to Nicki Minaj, Saltyshima.”

“I’ll dump your body in the ocean just to show you what salt is like.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” He laughs, before his voice hitches. “Wait, Tsukki, stop!”

══════════════════

“It’s cold again…” Yamaguchi mutters, his coat all buttoned up, knit hat pulled down to his ears and scarf suffocating his throat. His gloveless hands refuge in his pockets, warm from the inside of the museum but not enough to keep him safe from the growing storm. “Saltyshima, hold my hand again.”

The parking lot adjacent to the museum is bestrewed with cars, perhaps six or seven sedans, owners all loitering inside the building. There aren’t any tracks in the newly stacked snow with more still falling, assisting their comrades in the battle to overtake the Earth in an eternal winter. The only enemies it faces are the duo’s footsteps, denting the ground they conquered. 

Tsukishima, wearing only gloves more than the other, also finds the dropping temperature to be an issue. Slipping off one of his mitts and handing them to Yamaguchi without hesitation, his ulterior motives quickly arise as he pulls out his phone. “What are you doing?” The latter asks, slipping on the protection with a quiet thank you. They both stop moving and he leans over to glance at the screen. “Are you checking the weather?”

“I don’t think you need an app to tell you it’s below zero now,” Tsukishima says, tapping away at his phone. It takes a few seconds to connect to the dying data connection and a few more seconds for the query to get through before he sighs, showing Yamaguchi the results. “Look. Our bus was postponed because of the snow. Damn unpredictable weather...”

“We could call an Uber,” Yamaguchi suggests pulling out his own device. “I don’t know how long that would take though…”

“It’s an hour to get back to our prefecture, Tadashi. I only have enough left for our bus fares and a small meal.”

Stopping his search, Yamaguchi glances up at the blond. “Doesn’t it have a timetable?” Locking his phone and putting it in his pocket, knowing they have no other alternative but to hitch a ride or wait so it serves no purpose, he lets his hands drop into them as well, trying to take whatever heat hasn’t left yet.

“Uh…” Scrolling through the bus info, he nods. “Yeah, about... Two hours from now. Do you want to go back inside to wait or find somewhere near the stop to wait? Unless you want to see salt melting snow.” Yamaguchi snickers, reaching and locking Tsukishima’s phone for him. The other takes a hint and puts it into his pocket, crossing his arms. “What?”

“Well, since it snows so often in Tōhoku, we rarely get to see salt melting snow,” he says, crouching down. The white precipitation crunches under his weight, while some goes into his gloved hand being pocketed into a sphere. “So, you want to see it in live action?”

“Just for scientific purposes, right?” Imitating the other, he stoops down and uncrosses his arms, scooping snow into his mitt. Once enough is packed into the ball he stands up, almost losing his balance and steps back. The various cars are parked near the outskirts of the lot, all social distancing with one another. They circle the two, helping create the illusion of a ring. “Well, I don’t-”

He can’t finish his sentence before Yamaguchi takes the first hit, already throwing his first snowball. Cackling as it hits Tsukishima in the face, doubling over and holding his stomach, the other is unamused, pushing off the snow the has yet to fall off his glasses. Rearing his arm, he launches it at the smaller male, trying to gather more weaponry.

Yamaguchi’s body hits the ground, his laugh still echoing. Snowflakes connect with their hairs, few landing on their eyelashes and blocking their vision. The greenhead grabs fistfuls of white, balling them up and catapulting them at the towering assumptious victor. 

Crumbs of the fallen’s attacks hit their target, who’s reloading, stuffing more into his hand and hurling them at his opponent. Yamaguchi doesn’t stop laughing, finding his suffering amusing in an odd sense. The laughter is the only useful attack against Tsukishima, spreading through him like a virus before contaminating his vocal chords. The two of them reach a stalemate due to their hysterical antics, the snow falling out of their hands as they try to catch their breaths. 

“And you ask me,” Tsukishima laughs, “why I don’t like to play Monopoly with you, cheater.”

“This is war!” Yamaguchi giggles, sitting up as he tries to control his stomach. “There is no cheating.”

The two of them continue laughing like schoolgirls, before Yamaguchi finally sees a move to break the silence in their war. Stumbling to his feet, he propels himself forward, his hands landing on Tsukishima’s elevated sides and pushes him into the snow. The latter—rendered defenseless—doesn’t have any solid footing to keep him up but is able to grab a hold of Yamaguchi’s scarf. It undoes itself but serves its purpose, taking advantage of his unstable position.

They collide with the ground, Tsukishima’s fall softened from snow and Yamaguchi’s from the blocker. Before they can further their war, a rather harsh gust of wind hits the two of them, blowing away Yamaguchi’s loose scarf. It earns the reactions of the goosebumps on their bodies, their hairs straightening as it passes through them. “Ack, why’d you have to grab my scarf, Tsukki!” Pushing himself upward with the help of Tsukishima’s chest, he swiftly reacts.

Securing it around his neck, tightening the knot so Tsukishima can’t pull it off, he crosses his arms with a huff following a smug look. “I’m on top so I win.”

Tsukishima’s hands find their place behind his head, positioning him so he can look into the other’s brown eyes. Smirking with a glint of mischievous shimmering in his eyes, he says “I hope you realize your words have another meaning to them.”

Yamaguchi takes a few seconds to let it sink in before smearing Tsukishima’s glasses with snow residue left on his hands, claiming he’s lost his ‘sight privileges’.

══════════════════

“You cannot actually blame me for being cold,” Tsukishima says, still failing to rub away the frostbite from his lenses. “You ruined my glasses so you get left outside, that’s how it always works.”

“Always works according to what!” Yamaguchi cries, his arms rubbing his brachium in a fruitless attempt to warm himself. The bus has about fifteen seats, a quarter of them facing forward and being secluded with the rest doubled up with their backs against the window. Only about seven seats are being occupied, none paying any mind to the two high schoolers on their way home.

They choose to sit on a couple-seat rather than commune over their shoulders, the greenhead sticking close to the warmer blond. After Yamaguchi rudely razed the latter’s vision, he forced him to wait outside for the last ten minutes before the bus arrived. While the punishment didn’t last long, the effects will until the ride’s heaters warms his bones. “Warm me up you asshole!”

“Calling me names and screaming at me only has the opposite effect, ‘Guchi,” Tsuskihima japes, a smile hidden behind his sandstone lips. “Please do keep screaming.”

“God, you had the guts to say _I’m_ the kinky one,” Yamaguchi snaps, his lips turning in a frown. His body inches closer towards his punisher who dares gaslight the dangers of hypothermia, unconcerned if the other feels him moving. 

Tsukishima does not care, engaging in an idiot’s conversation rather than a lover’s quarrel. “You shouldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain.”

“You’re not Christian!”

“Still, I’m calling Jesus if you keep harassing his good name.”

Yamaguchi sighs, a smile breaking through his icy body, a ray of light shining upon his teeth. His dimples complement his freckles, stars complimenting the moon next to him. With a snicker, he asks, “Please tell me you still have that as his contact.”

Tsukishima simpers, pulling out his phone from his most likely heat absorbent pocket, his gloves slipping off so he could access the touch screen. Navigating to his contacts, he scrolls down the few he blessed to be saved into his phone book before stopping at ‘J’. Clicking on the info, he holds it out for Yamaguchi to observe, seemingly proud of their inside joke.

A picture of their third year senior finishes the aesthetic, with praying hand emojis around the name ‘Jesus’. With his band holding his brown curly locks back, anyone could mistaken the timid giant as the resurrected talking-baby.

Yamaguchi snickers, finally giving in to the cold and leaning on his shoulder. “I hereby forbid you from ever changing that. It’s perfect. I would do it too but I’d rather not copy Tsukki.”

“Nishinoya-san has it too, I’ve checked,” Tsukishima states, this time not brushing off his affection as he did this morning. “Though the emojis are different and I’m not sure if it’s a joke or not.”

“Different… How? Wait… Wait, don’t tell me, no matter what you say, I won’t be satisfied so I don’t want to know.” Yamaguchi blows air through his lips, grabbing the phone before Tsukishima could tuck it away. Closing the phone book app and opening Spotify, he earns a stray look. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to blast music. Let’s play a game.”

“Game? I’m assuming it’s the guessing game you keep trying to get me to do?”

“Er… Yeah?... It’s fun, I promise!” Yamaguchi tilts the phone at the angle you would when you're watching something that might invoke opinions in public, clicking on a random playlist. “Okay, I’m going to tell you the playlist and pick a random song. Then you just have to try and guess the song based on my hints.”

Tsukishima, sighs, his arms folding. “You’re really bad at describing things.”

“No, it’s just that you know that you’re bad at figuring stuff out, Saltyshima.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You know it is,” Yamaguchi says, a coy smile overtaking his sweet face. “Okay, I’m in 80s Japanese..”

Tsukishima interrupts, “80s Japanese as in it was popular in the 80s like ABBA or 80s Japanese as in it’s a song in Japanese.”

Holding up two fingers, the freckled boy bites his lip, trying to give the most unconjecturable hints. “Okay this song is written by someone who shares their first name with a popular character in a popular visual novel… The main chorus sounds like a commercial and is in English. That’s it, that’s all you get.”

“Wait, you’re not going to even go further on the visual novel? You’re just going to drop me off a cliff without giving me a better clue about the game?” Tsukishima scoffs, side-eyeing the driver before trying to glance at the phone. 

Yamaguchi pulls away, sacrificing the body warmth they share to keep the game going. “Fine, fine… Uh, executions. Students. Bear.”

Tsukishima nods, piecing his clues together, managing to grip a loose rock stopping him from plummeting to the bottom. “Um, there’s a singer called Junko… Junko Yagami? Junko… Junko Ohasnit? Wait, is it Telephone Number?”

Yamaguchi finger guns, making a ‘ding-ding-ding’ sound as he tosses the phone back to its owner. “I didn’t think you’d get the Danganronpa thing.”

“Tell me one other game where students get executed with a bear,” he replies, leaving the playlist. “Okay, I’m not going to give you an easy one… I’m in our top 100 list.”

“No, no,” Yamaguchi holds his hands up in an x, shaking his head. “You know I’m bad at remembering random things.”

“All the better for me,” Tsukishima smirks, ignoring the pleas Yamaguchi makes. The two are good at remembering separate songs depending on genre but when they’re clumped together, they slip their minds. Well, maybe not Tsukishima, who’s got the mind of a dedicated student. “Alright, you cried during this song-”

“I’ve never cried during a song,” Yamaguchi proclaims proudly, crossing his arms. “I’ve teared up but never cried. Only you have. I think… Uhm that one anime… Oh, yeah, when we were listening to that one song in Given.”

“...What the actual fuck,” Tsukishima curses, startling the other. “You saw the phone didn’t you? This is why I don’t do stuff with you, you goddamn cheater..”

“...Wait, did I get it right? Oh my god, I’m the Messiah!” Yamaguchi cackles, pushing his stomach. “You’re so bad at this!”

“You’re looking at the phone. You know what, I’m not letting you have your turn unless you can get the entire name right.”

Yamaguchi’s laughter dies down and confusion crosses his face. “The… Actual name?” Biting his bottom lip, letting it slip out from his teeth he stares down at the tile of the ground. “I think… ‘Mada’?”

“No, that’s what he starts with. That’s when you started crying..”

“I didn’t cry during this song, you did.”

“Stop being so lame and admit it. You were literally sobbing.”

“Sobbing isn’t crying. You were crying, though.”

“They’re synonyms. And when have you ever seen me cry?”

“I have videos-”

“Get the damn name already, Tadashi.”

Crossing his arms, he lets his lip go back to its hiding place. “...The band’s name is Given right?” A hymn of agreement from Tsukishima does nothing for him. “Uhm… Winter story?”

Tsukishima chortles. “There’s no way you only remember the English name.”

“But that is the name, right?”

“That’s not what I asked. I want the name. Not the translation.”

“You’re being so demanding,” Yamaguchi huffs, trying to peek at the phone. Tsukishima locks the screen, pushing his lover closer to the bus wall. “C’mon, I bet if I asked you, you wouldn’t half a slightest clue.”

“Well lucky for me, you’re not asking me. It’s not that hard Tadashi.”

“I’ve already told you the name.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play this game and you’re not playing by the rules?”

Yamaguchi frowns, crossing his arms. Under his breath, he sings the melody but tormentingly keeps his voice tucked away from Tsukishima’s voice. It’s not that his voice is in particular pretty or whatnot but when you’ve grown so accustomed to the noises a loved one makes, you often find yourself yearning to hear more. You ask them if they can read to you or you poke at their buttons until they rant to you about what’s going on, just so you can hear their voice. Your fingers will glide their sides or your teeth will nib at their necks, just to hear their squeals. Either that, or Tsukishima is just obsessed with his Yamaguchi. 

Nonetheless, whether this is a universal experience or a case-by-case instance, Tsukishima doesn’t like it when Yamaguchi holds back. Not that he’ll ever admit it. “They never say the line in the song.”

Yamaguchi’s frown can’t deepen, his lips too accustomed to smiling to contort their muscles in such an absurd way. Instead, he sighs through his nose, one of defeat. “Can you tell me it so I can pretend I got it right?”

The blond stares at him before the former giggles. God, how contagious his laughter is. Tsukishima has always thought of himself higher than the low forms of humor the other first years indulge themselves to, the fights they pit against each other but his pride is no match for Yamaguchi. For at least the third time that day, he finds the noise spreading to him and he simply reasons that he’s laughing along so Yamaguchi doesn’t feel out of place. No other reason, none at all.

“Fuyu no Hanashi,” Tsukishima manages through their soft laughter before Yamaguchi raises his arms in victory.

“Fuyu no Hanashi!” He breaks out in a grin, earning stares around them. Tsukishima tugs on his arms, his smile still clear like the moon breaking through the clouds above them. 

“You moron, there are other people here, you’ve got to be quiet.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Yamaguchi smiles before tugging on the other’s pocket. “I’ve remembered why I hate doing these games with you. Let’s just listen to some music.”

“No,” Tsukishima quickly says. “You’re going to play Hikariare on repeat. Again.”

“It’s a good song!” He protests before shaking his head, stifling the threats of his smile widening even more. “Fine, I’ll play something that came out recently.” 

Tsukishima bites his smile, not wanting to give in once more to the other’s happiness. He’s bigger than that. Much bigger than surrendering, yet again, to the sugar sweet grin of that idiotic green haired sub-in. “I swear, if you play another Tik Tok song-”

“You’re so mean to me, Tsukki. No, because I love you and your ‘sanity’, I won’t play anything as catchy as Touch You.”

Tsukishima, who has had his trust tested over the course of the years he’s known Yamaguchi, foolishly decides to go along with the path they’re going on and pulls out the white earbuds he always has stored in his pockets (the only thing he’s more obsessed with than Yamaguchi is ways of listening to music, not even listening to the music itself). He hands it over to his seatmate who plugs two and two together, puts a plug into each of their ears and plays a song.

Heat Waves comes on and Tsukishima groans. “You’re the worst.”

“Thank you, Tsukk~iii.”

══════════════════

“When are your parents getting back home?” The blond asks, fingers gliding down his overcoat, separating the crimson fabric from one another like opening one’s wound to remove any residue from attainment. He sprouts a striped sleeve shirt, grey and white, doing no justice to his light hair. “I don’t want them to lecture me to leave.” His voice is gentler than normal, prying into a sensitive subject.

“I dunno,” Yamaguchi vaguely responds, stripping himself of winter’s armor. Grabbing bare clothing hangers, he layers them with the heavy material, gesturing for Tsukishima so he can do it once more. “They’re probably going to stay out after they finish work.” 

Yamaguchi doesn’t speak much about his family, even to his best friend. He never feels like they warrant too much of a part of his life; aside from giving birth and raising him. They were there—correction, _are_ there—but they never really make themselves apparent. He doesn’t have any memories worth sharing, any deep bonds to either of them. Hell, volleyball means more to him than them.

Harsh as it sounds, Yamaguchi is raised by people who saw him as something to take care of rather than someone to love. Tsukishima never touches on the subject in fear of striking a wound too deep and carefully navigates his way around it. Tsukishima has that same pain, after all. Neither are afraid to talk about but both are afraid of what they would say.

“Wanna play another game?” Yamaguchi perks up, shoving away any unwanted thoughts. Spending too much trapped in the past does nothing more but leave you stranded, unable to swim up when you want to leave. He has Tsukishima here, he has a team that relies on him as much as he relies on them and he’s on track to college. His life is so much bigger than people describe it to be so he has no reason to drown. 

Tsukishima doesn’t show his pleasure, instead groaning. “You never get sick of being an idiot, do you? No, I’m in no mood to play your cheating chess.” 

Yamaguchi slips out of his shoes and into his slippers, walking through the home’s genkan and gesturing to his friend. “You’re no fun, you know that?” Giggling, he leads the tall sixteen year-old up the stairs, creaks stalking the two, trying to guess if they’re going up or down. “It’s not my fault you came right in the middle of the coup.”

“ _‘It’s not my fault you came right in the middle of the coup,’_ ” Tsukishima mocks, pushing his glasses up further. “You didn’t even understand what a coup even is. You thought it was a royal pigeon.”

“That was three years ago!” Yamaguchi snaps, turning his head over his shoulder as he finishes his ascend up the stairs. Balling his fists as the other gets taller with every step he furthers, jabbing a finger into his chest once they’re (almost) face-to-face. “Sorry for breaking the word down rationally, Tsukki! Listen, it’s a very normal thought process to assume things are what they sound like. English doesn’t make sense, anyways. It’s full of irregularities like the order of adjectives and rules people were too… Not sober to correct.”

“Not sober?” Tsukishima laughs, holding his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Yamaguchi hisses. “You’re not trustworthy.”

“Really? _I’m_ not trustworthy? You’re literally the one who invited me to play a game of chess where the objective is to make it as unfair as possible.” Tsukishima holds back a smile at the memory—there were pieces everywhere, many cracked in half to resemble clones. White’s king was dethroned multiple times and pawns were constantly being named the new emperor. The poor queen got so sick of the power being stripped away from her that she sacrificed her entire team for multiple lives. Black, however, had already done occult activities and summoned a being resembling Cthulhu (Tsukishima dropped a volleyball onto the board) that would’ve surely led to victory. Both sides were so drunk with power that they tore each other apart and they ended in a draw. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were also drunk, albeit drunk on laughter.

Huffing, Yamaguchi continues his journey to his plain room, mumbling how Tsukishima didn’t even properly read the incarnations he found online. He opens the door, treating it with more kindness than he ever will his boyfriend. Plain is the only proper way to describe the realm he sleeps in—there’s a bed, a desk equipped with a computer and notebooks littered with equations and random jumbles of thoughts, a dresser and of course, his bag sitting next to a volleyball. 

“Close the door behind you,” he instructs, floating to his bed before flopping. His fingers reach for the volleyball, unable to properly grip it and pull it up. Tsukishima waits until he hears a click before following, obtaining the volleyball before the greenhead can. Pushing himself back so his back is propped up by the wall, he brings a leg to his chest and fiddles with the ball. 

Tsukishima rarely initiates conversation. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy their talks—there's a reason Yamaguchi is the only person Tsukishima ever walks with without headphones blocking his ears. Listening to the other ramble about whatever’s on his mind, backing up with a ‘Gomen, Tsukki!’ and continuing on his merry way is more than enjoyable. Tsukishima is, after all, bedeviled with all the endless noises the younger male can hold.

Yamaguchi can carry a whole conversation on his back with someone he’s comfortable with and manage to make you feel like you’ve said enough to fill all the voids in space. Other times, he can comfort you with the softest words and make you feel like you're trapped in cloud nine. Or, when he’s feeling mischievous, he can get on your nerves in the best way and you won’t even notice how irked you are. 

“I wanna do it now, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi blurts shamelessly. Or, he's just plain horny and immodestly declares it. 

Not that Tsukishima has any problem with that. They're both teenagers here.

══════════════════

“I don’t think my parents are coming home today,” Yamaguchi thinks aloud, locking his phone and placing it on his nightstand. He had been scrolling through the jumble of messages he’d sent in the span of the day, hoping that the green icon indicating his online status would pressure them to respond. They didn’t even leave him on read, which did a bit more than just pique him. “Do you just wanna stay the night?”

His back was turned against Tsukishima’s, his sides pressing against the bed. His fingers hover over the nightstand momentarily, before returning in front of him. Yamaguchi’s body turns to face the blond, a smile forcing its way onto his lips. “We can stay up late playing video games.”

“Smash?” Tsukishima asks—call him a prick all you want, but if Yamaguchi doesn’t want to open up, he isn’t going to pry him open. They have an unspoken thing between them that lets you leave things unspoken (ironic, isn’t it?) Of course, they have to acknowledge some things but for the most part, there’s an ocean of unsaid between them and it’s better to bait fish with a good time than just throw in a fishing rod.

“We already did that,” Yamaguchi says, sitting up and twisting his body, a simple maneuver that ends with his arms pushing against the mattress, flexing his back. He earns himself a shove off the bed, but he cackles on the way down. The phony smile wears off and is replaced by a grin, looking up at Tsukishima, getting up as well. 

The blond says nothing, leading them into a comfortable silence as they slip out the door, snake down the hallway and sneak down the stairways. There isn’t any light illuminating the way but the familiar squeaks provide insight. These sounds are all muffled, however, by giggles as their bodies clumsily smack into the furniture. End table, _smack_. Arm of the couch, _smack_. Kitchen island, _smack_. There isn’t that much resistance on the route to the living room, but they don’t bother taking the traditional route and would rather feel the scenery. 

Or they just want to be idiots, late at night in a quiet house, where no one can tell them they’re acting out of land or uncharacteristically. 

When they finally find their way back to the couch, turn on the television and power on the Switch, they plop down onto the cushions and exchange controllers like war stories. Tsukishima will never admit it, but he’ll only play with the green controller that he had to bring from his house. It’s good luck, he claims, but Yamaguchi knows it’s just because of his obsession with the prehistoric creatures that ruled the world.

The faint title music from the latest installment of Smash Bros echoes through the dimly lit room, both of them failing to realize or perhaps lacking the care to realize that the lights aren’t on. The televisions pixels provide enough guidance for their thumbs to slide over the joystick and their index fingers to attack the bumpers. 

It’s a quick journey before they reach the selection screen, both of them picking their mains as they like starting out their often hour long matches with a little bit of familiarity—Yamaguchi as Bayonetta and Tsukishima as Yoshi. The former likes her because of her good recovery, decent long distance attacks and quick slides and the latter… Must it be said?

The first few rounds with these characters go as randomly as Yamaguchi’s serves. One for Tsukishima, three for Yamaguchi, Tsukishima returning with a vengeance and Yamaguchi proceeding to cheat. They begin to lose their competitive edges and change characters depending on whatever rules they came up with: ’Only human characters!’; Only furries!’; ’Only girls!’; Only hot guys!’; ’Only non-Nintendo characters!’

It isn’t long before they reach their ongoing war, with the score currently set to 296 v 301, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi respectively. two hundred and sixty-one: King Dedede vs. King Dedede. How the matchup began has been long forgotten and there isn’t any end goal in mind but they keep striving towards the unknown.

There isn’t any sleeping in sight when they’re mashing each other with hammers, chopping down each other’s stock as they kick each other in real life. But someone must’ve got the binoculars as in the middle of a match, Yamaguchi drifts off and leaves win 299 to Tsukishima. The blond is sure to make up for his cheating with a kiss good night to his boyfriend and hauling him up to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> AAA, this is my first fic that I've posted and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear any feedback any of you have :) 
> 
> (as a side note, if you thought of any songs while reading this, please tell me, I need inspiration to write more fluff, alright, thank you very much)


End file.
